Ouroboros
by Peki2012
Summary: The long, long courtship of Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy.
1. Chapter 1

_Hogwarts, spring 1973_

"Are you going to stare all day or are you going to make yourself useful?"

Lucius wasn't _trying_ to start anything, at least no more than he usually was, but she was making it bloody difficult for him to not lose a hand chopping laurel leaves when she was distracting him with those over-the-knee socks. Granted, it was a cold spring day and the Potions laboratory was draughty, but that was no excuse for being purposefully saucy about altering the standard school uniform, especially when one was female and impossibly leggy.

He shifted his gaze from the glimpse of thigh between the hem of Narcissa's skirt and the edge of her stockings and looked up at her face, which was no less appealing, but currently set in an expression of stern disapproval that he couldn't but admire for how genuine it looked. She could've fooled anyone, but they'd played this game too often for him to miss the subtle flutter of her lashes or the way she kept dropping things that she simply had to bend over to retrieve. All things considered, Lucius felt fully justified in enjoying the show.

"I am being useful," he said. "You know you're not happy unless you have a rapt audience."

"Rapt. Is that what you are." She handed him a pair of dragonhide gloves, then turned back to her cauldron. "Please go milk that snake."

"Here and now? Why, Miss Black!"

"One more snake joke, Malfoy, and I'll make you wear that cobra for a cravat. You are not ruining my perfect grade. Now go."

A few of the braver Hufflepuffs at the next cauldron over sniggered. Lucius stared them down in passing until they ducked over their work again. He went slowly enough that it didn't feel like he was following orders, but he knew that Narcissa always made good on her word, and besides, he did not want to risk a partnership that would enable him to sail smoothly through seventh-year Potions and to an Outstanding NEWT with minimal effort or inconvenience aside from the occasional encounter with an angry snake. This was probably not what Professor Slughorn had had in mind at the start of term when he'd announced that seventh-year Potions was going to be 'self-guided study', but Lucius wasn't complaining: Potions class was far more fun without supervision.

Still, there was the issue of the cobra. Half the pranks in Slytherin House involved finding a snake in places one would not normally want it, so Lucius wasn't particularly squeamish, but the serpent had been manhandled by several other students before him and was hissing and spitting already as he approached the glass tank. He met its glare with one of his own as he pulled on the gloves. The cobra raised its head, ready to strike.

"Evan," he heard Narcissa say placidly as he unlocked the tank, "Get the antivenom from my kit, please."

"What for?" Rosier asked, but Lucius's loud cursing sent him running without further ado.

"Tsk," Narcissa made, sidling up as Lucius tried to detach the snake from his arm, where it had embedded its fangs just above the protective gloves. "Oh well. At least it didn't get your face this time." She grabbed the snake just behind the head and squeezed, and he cursed again as he felt it inject every last bit of venom into his arm.

"You know, that was quite unpleasant," he said crossly as Narcissa finally put the snake back into its tank, where it curled up to sulk. The Ravenclaws who had lined up behind Lucius to extract snake venom took one look at it and hung their heads, resigning themselves to an imperfect potion.

"So I gathered from your colourful language," she said loftily. "Don't be a baby. Come over to the cauldron so I can siphon off the venom."

"You can _milk the snake_ the next time," he grumbled as she started to chant softly over his wound and the snake's poison began to leak back out. Narcissa caught it all in a chalice, then healed the bite mark. He was beginning to feel a little lightheaded, but that was mostly because of her perfume when she stood so close. The daffodil scent she always wore was bittersweet, like the wind carrying with it the first hints of spring. Even in the midst of winter, in the musty Potions classroom, she smelled like light and air, fresh and untouched-

"Accio chair," Narcissa said, and suddenly Lucius found his backside connecting hard with a stool and Narcissa standing over him, shaking her head. "Next time, try to not get bitten. Here, drink this."

Lucius thought that she could have given him the antivenom first instead of tending to her precious potion ingredients. He emptied the vial she handed him and made a face. "Does it have to taste like dragon piss?"

"Don't be crude. You should be grateful I keep it on hand. How is it that you still can't seem to follow safety protocol, Malfoy?"

"Please. Potions is boring enough without all the regulations."

"I'd thank you not to call my efforts boring," she said, peering down her nose at him over the rim of protective goggles. "Or you can drop Potions, as you should have two years ago, and leave."

"And pass up the pleasure of your company?" Lucius smirked. He was feeling better now that the antivenom was working. "You wouldn't _really_ want me to do that, would you, Narcissa?"

Narcissa turned back to her cauldron with a long-suffering sigh.

Rosier laughed. He perched on the desk, peering into the cauldron as she poured in the snake venom and a puff of green smoke rose from the bubbling liquid. "Touché, Cissy. We all know you only like Potions so much for the socialising."

Lucius was gratified to hear it. Rosier might joke, but he was Narcissa's cousin and probably her closest friend aside from Lucius himself, insofar as they could call themselves friends. They'd been friendly since first year, Potions partners since the third, but the flirting was new. Sure, Narcissa flirted with every male from nine to ninety, so it would've been an affront if she hadn't practiced her charms on him – he was the most eligible bachelor in Britain, after all – but nevertheless, he enjoyed it, and perhaps a little too much. If he was honest with himself, he had lost a bit of his edge when he teased her back, and he knew that she knew it.

"And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Evan?" Narcissa asked now in the dulcet tones she reserved for the most biting sarcasm. Lucius never understood how people didn't see through her when she pretended to be the nice young lady; she was about as nice as the cobra he had wrangled earlier, but the dichotomy between her beauty and her wickedness only made things more interesting as far as he was concerned.

Rosier stretched lazily. "I came for the show. I do enjoy watching Malfoy getting his head bitten off."

"Well, we're done with the cobra, so you can leave."

Rosier smirked. "I wasn't talking about the cobra, darling."

Lucius chuckled. "Let a man have fun, Cissy. While he can."

That wiped the smile off Rosier's face right quick. "Oh, could you stop! I'd just managed to forget!"

"I thought going into banking was your life's dream?"

"My mother's dream, more like," Rosier moaned. It was probably mean to kick a man when he was already low – and soon would be lower, locked away in the vaults at Gringott's – but Lucius did enjoy poking at people's sore spots. Why should he be the only one to suffer from terrible parenting.

"It's not fair," Rosier continued jealously. "Why do I have to go work at Gringott's and slave away under some goblin while you get to sow your wild oats all over Europe?"

"I'm sure I don't know what possessed your mother to put you up to it, but it's hardly my fault." The Rosiers didn't have a reputation for being good with money, just like their Black cousins, but Lucius smartly kept that opinion to himself.

"Nothing about Malfoy's existence is fair, Evan," Narcissa put in. "He doesn't know how good he has it. Lazing about while other people get him through Potions-"

"A luxury for which I pay very well, as I recall," Lucius said dryly.

Rosier perked up at that. "How do you pay her, in snogs?"

"He wishes," Narcissa said sweetly.

"No; she knows her price, and it's payable in gold," Lucius told the other man, chortling.

"You actually pay her? Drat, Cissy! And you're not even an apothecary yet," Rosier laughed.

"And I won't ever be if I don't finish this potion. I need it for my application." Narcissa stirred slowly, precisely clockwise. "So stop talking and clean up, you two."

"I'm off. See you at dinner." Rosier was fast, fleeing before she could make him pick up chopped remains of rat; Lucius hesitated a moment too long, once again admiring the way Narcissa's skirt rode up in the back, and then it was too late. A wet rag hit him squarely in the chest and dropped down to land in his lap. Narcissa never even looked up from the cauldron. "Jump to it, Lucius."

He climbed to his feet, holding the sodden rag by one corner. Pleased, he noticed that the dizziness from the snake venom had all but subsided. Narcissa was a bossy little thing, but her potions were good. He peered over her shoulder just in time to see the potion turn from black to brilliant azure as she dropped in the last ingredient, beetle eyes. She exhaled slowly, relieved, and he took that as tacit approval to continue prodding her.

"No one tells me to 'jump to it'," he said, dropping the wet rag on the desk.

"Strange; I thought I just did." With successful completion of the day's work, Narcissa seemed instantly less prickly. She packed up her notes and filled a few vials with the potion, leaving the rest for Professor Slughorn to look at later. Most of the other students had already left, having been markedly less successful with today's potion than Narcissa or simply not in the mood to wrangle a snake. They were alone in their corner, and she turned to him, perching on the edge of her desk, and smiled. "Be a good boy and maybe you'll get a reward."

"What kind of reward?"

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "You'll see."

Experience made Lucius skeptical about her following through, but you never knew with Narcissa. There was the risk of missing out on something if he didn't comply, and just in case, he went to fetch a bucket of water from the sink across the room, making a big show of grumbling and causing the greatest possible spillage. He set a mop to clean up after him, then did the same to the rag on the desk. The last potion ingredients returned to their spots on the shelves with a quick banishing charm.

Narcissa watched all of this whilst idly flicking her wand. The crown of long braids that she wore for the sake of practicality came down now with the conclusion of the last lesson of the day, her hair untangling itself to fall almost to her waist. "Sloppy charmwork, but it'll do."

"So where's the reward?" he asked, sauntering up to her to collect.

Narcissa reached into the bottomless depths of her ridiculously small, embroidered handbag and pulled out a licorice wand, which she presented to him with the air of doing him a great favour. "There you are."

He sighed. "Why do I keep setting myself up for disappointment?"

Her smile was always the most angelic when her actions were anything but. "You like them, don't you."

Lucius thought that was entirely beside the point, but he respected her talent for manipulation even if he didn't quite enjoy it just then. He took a bite off the licorice wand, which was, admittedly, very good. "You're really lucky you're nice looking, you know."

"Why, thank you!" she said brightly.

"That wasn't a compliment."

"No?" She dangled her bag daintily off one wrist and sauntered out, hips swaying. "All I heard was that I looked nice."

Chortling, he followed. It was pointless to argue when she would only hear the things that suited her, and besides, he had to concede that she'd extracted a kernel of truth from him, so it was well played. He caught up with her and swung one arm around her shoulders.

"It'll be such a waste for you to be locked up in a potions laboratory all day," he said, amused. "Are you still set on going to work for Slug and Jigger's?"

"Of course, they're the best apothecary in London," she said. "It's a perfectly good choice for a career. And also the only choice my father will allow."

The Blacks had been notable potioneers for centuries, but what remained of that former glory had been squandered by her father and uncle, who'd seen the collapse of the potions empire that had once been _Cepheus Black and Sons, Purveyors of Peculiar Potion Ingredients, Since the Middle Ages_. Narcissa would have to go work for the competition, which surely had to hurt.

"It's only temporary until I finish my apprenticeship," she said now, clearly thinking of the same thing he was. "Once I'm a Master Potioneer, I can open my own business."

"If you can find an investor."

"What do you think I keep you around for?"

"You know, that hurts."

She gave him her most brilliant smile. "Come now, I'm sure we could reach a mutually satisfactory arrangement."

"I don't know. You'd have some convincing to do."

"What, you don't believe in my brilliance?"

"I fully believe you're a decent Potions Mistress. It's your business plan I'm not sure of. I've seen you do Arithmancy and the numbers don't always add up."

She shrugged gracefully, dislodging his arm from around her shoulders. "I have to let you excel at something so as not to bruise your fragile ego."

He leered. "You have no idea of all the things I excel at, Miss Black."

Narcissa looked at him and laughed. They could play like this all day long, cheerfully throwing words back and forth. It was almost like a match of Quidditch, except that Narcissa hated Quidditch and would only mount a broom under duress. Their interactions were a sport, and one that only really saw winners, not losers.

"Well, I do love a good puzzle," she said, and then took a sharp turn around the corner and into an abandoned classroom that they had come to use regularly for dueling practice.

Lucius looked forward to these sessions with perhaps undue anticipation. Defense Against the Dark Arts easily was his best subject even if he conveniently forgot about the 'defense against' part sometimes, and it was Narcissa's worst. She was perfectly capable of throwing a frightful hex, but on the whole, her style of attack was much more subtle and would sooner involve an elaborately brewed poison than an outright challenge to duel. Their NEWTs were looming, though, and there would be a practical part to the exam that she struggled with. Hence their biweekly appointment for dueling, which gave Lucius ample opportunity to point, laugh and tease aside from lording his wisdom over her.

"I hope you practised your stunning spells, because the gloves are off; I'm not going easy on you anymore," he said as he waved his wand and the desks and chairs began to stack themselves along one wall of the classroom, creating a large space in the middle.

She blushed, unable to maintain her loftiness when poked in her weak spot. "I never asked you to go easy."

He dropped his briefcase and shed his robes for better movement. "Not in so many words, but after the third time, I start to feel bad knocking you on your arse."

"You feel bad? I am shocked." She took off the heavy outer layer of her uniform too and folded it neatly over a chair, dropping her green-and-silver tie on top of it. Without the tie, her blouse made a deep vee at the front. She really was too tall for the standard issue school skirt now, or else she had transfigured it to end several inches above her knees. In any event, Lucius appreciated the view.

He folded his arms across his chest and regarded her with amusement. "Well, I don't feel _that_ bad, but it's the polite thing to say, isn't it."

"You're completely awful, Malfoy, and I don't know why I put up with you," she said sweetly, circling around to come to stand across from him. They were still talking pleasantly, but he didn't harbor any illusion that she would warn him before throwing the first hex.

He flexed his fingers around his wand. "Because learning to duel is important? You won't always have time to set up your cauldron to defend yourself."

"Fine, then. Are you ready?"

She rounded on him and threw the first hex, just as he had expected. Not that the element of surprise would have helped her much; she was too hesitant, overthinking her spells to get them perfect, and it didn't take him long until he had her backed against the wall.

"Expelliarmus." He let her wand fall to the floor so she had to bend down and retrieve it. The view of her legs when her skirt rode up in the back really was something. Lucius whistled softly, and suddenly found himself being thrown back against the wall and his wand sailing through the air. It clattered on the floor, and Narcissa took her time slowly picking it up before she sauntered over, looking unimpressed.

"You're far too easily distracted."

"That was unfair," he said, and laughed. "You're getting better."

She released the invisible hold she had on him and handed back his wand. "Your weaknesses are not my problem. Especially not when they play to my strengths."

"And what are those?"

She tilted her head from side to side, smiling. "Would you like to find out?"

Inviting an attack might not be that smart, but he couldn't resist a challenge, and especially not when the harbinger of doom was a smile like that. "You don't frighten me."

Narcissa drew closer, twirling her wand between slim fingers. "Are you sure?"

She didn't give him time to prepare, not that he could have: one moment he was laughing at her, and the next he felt a great numbness wash over him. A niggling little voice at the back of his mind shouted in outrage, but suddenly he did not care about it or anything else. "Come here," Narcissa said, and he went, feeling weightless as if a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders. He had no worry, no care in the world; she would tell him what to do. "Stop." He stopped, wanting nothing more than to stand in this very spot. "Come." And there he went again, gladly, to stand in front of her. Her perfume enveloped him like an embrace.

"Well, I like this," Narcissa smiled. "Aren't you a good boy."

"If you want me to be," he answered, and it was nothing but the truth.

She bit her lip against a truly devious grin. "We'll see. Now, tell me what you're thinking."

"You smell nice," he said readily. "I like your hair down like this. Your-" _Stop!_ the voice in his head roared, suddenly very loud. Lucius hesitated, at odds with himself. He wanted to speak, but he didn't. Confused, he looked to Narcissa.

"Hmm," she made, intrigued, and waved her wand again. "You were saying?"

The voice quieted. Lucius relaxed and found that he was panting as if he'd just battled an army to bring about this peace. Still, he felt at ease, like everything was going to be all right now. The world around them seemed distant; nothing could touch him while he was wrapped up in her voice as if in layers of silk. "Your skirt's too short."

She gasped as if embarrassed. "I know, it's perfectly awful, isn't it."

"Yes; I'm sorry your father is too poor to afford two more inches of fabric." The words slipped out through the cracks of his obedience. The voice inside his mind sniggered.

"That was rude, Lucius," she said softly, frowning. She raised her wand, and he could see that she was gripping it hard as if with great effort. "Kneel down. Admit that I beat you."

Lucius didn't particularly want to kneel, but he couldn't quite resist her. "You beat me."

"Say that you like it."

"I like it," he ground out through gritted teeth.

"Is that the truth?"

Lucius winced; he'd bitten his tongue, but the word still spilled out. "Yes."

She smiled triumphantly. "Well, remember it. _Finite_."

He fell back on his arse like he'd been slapped over the head. Lucius felt lightheaded, first dazed, then surprised as recognition set in and his own inner voice escaped from its cage and began to berate him. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and looked up at Narcissa, who stood over him with her arms folded across her chest, still chewing her lip against that evil grin.

"How are you feeling?"

"Curse me again and make me tell you," he said, unsure whether he should be angry or impressed. "Or how about I tell the headmaster that you used an Unforgivable on me?"

"Psh. You said I wasn't doing well enough, so I tried something new. You're just angry you couldn't resist it."

In that respect, it really had been an interesting exercise. Lucius had never before experienced the Imperius curse. It was good to know how it felt and that he'd come close to shaking it off. True, Narcissa was hardly the most adept opponent, but with some practice, he felt that he might be able to defend himself against it. He climbed to his feet, shaking off dust and with it the indignity of having submitted to her so easily and ungracefully. Still, there was one way in which she had exposed herself in the process.

"Well, it was hardly worth the risk for what you made me do. That was reckless, Cissy."

She shrugged, clearly pleased with herself. "I've been wanting to see if I could actually do it."

"So have I," he admitted, flexing his fingers experimentally around his wand. "Turnabout is fair play, don't you think? _Imperio_."

He could tell he had caught her off guard while she still basked in her victory; it really was too easy otherwise. Narcissa staggered backward with the impact of the curse, swaying unsteadily on her feet for a moment before she caught herself and looked at him expectantly. Could this really be all there was to it? "Come closer."

She came, albeit slowly.

Lucius felt excitement twist his insides like a coil, winding him up. "You enjoyed that, didn't you. Casting that curse."

"Yes," Narcissa admitted.

He shook his head at her. "And you claim to be little Miss Innocent. That was wicked, Cissy. Say you're sorry."

She shuddered as if he was physically trying to pull the words out of her, painfully and one by one, but then she spoke. "I'm sorry."

"But that doesn't mean much, does it, when I have to tell you to say it." He reached out to take her hand and pull her closer, and she came without resisting him. "You'll have to do better than that."

Her lips said "Yes," readily enough, but her eyes glared at him all the same.

Lucius felt drunk with power. She was the most headstrong person he knew; if he could make her bend to his will in spite of herself, he could have anyone, anyone at all. Mostly, though, he wanted her, and at this moment, everything he desired was his for the taking. "I think we should kiss and make up. Don't you agree."

"Yes."

"Say please," he commanded.

"Please," Narcissa ground out through gritted teeth.

He dragged her forward against his chest, one arm coming around her waist. She was more pliant than he had envisioned her in his fantasies, and this close to her he could feel her heart beating quickly like hummingbird wings. He watched her face twitching with the struggle of resisting him and failing, watched the terror in her eyes as her body swayed towards him even as her mind protested, and felt a twinge of disappointment. He knew she wanted to snog him all of her own accord, without any need for magic other than their natural attraction, and he'd thought the curse would make it easier for her to give in. That she was resisting so hard felt vaguely insulting. He gripped his wand, thinking _Finite_ one second before her lips touched his, and felt Narcissa go sort of slack in his arms. She blinked her eyes as if she'd just woken from a long sleep, looked up to meet his gaze, and then leaned in to kiss him anyway.

Lucius was too surprised to react as her lips touched his and her tongue sneaked out to catch a taste of him. Before he knew it, it was over. Brusquely, Narcissa shook off his touch and moved back so as to better glare at him from a safe distance.

"I can't believe you made me do that! How dare you!"

"I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't and you know it," he retorted, suddenly feeling greatly pleased. He'd had it right: she wanted to kiss him, she just didn't want to be caught wanting it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she claimed, blushing. "You cursed me!"

"You cursed me first," he said dryly. "And it appears my curse simply gave you a nudge."

Narcissa turned on her heel and began to gather her things. "Practice is over," she announced, sweeping out without waiting for him to follow.

"Don't be embarrassed. I won't hold this against you." In the hall, he caught up with her, matching her long strides. "I know it's hard for women to resist me."

"Yes, I'd imagine so if you curse them into consenting."

Lucius didn't dignify that with an answer. They both knew the truth, and after she'd cooled off, Narcissa wouldn't let a bit of awkwardness stand in the way of pursuing what she wanted. Luckily, he was fairly certain that she wanted this just as much as he did, and until she came around, things would at least be more interesting now that they had upped the game. He licked at his lips, trying to catch a taste of her, but she eluded him as always. If anything, he thought, it was he who should be cross that she'd kissed him without giving him a chance to reciprocate.

Narcissa kept up an impressive pout until they got back to their common room, where their classmates were hopelessly lazing about as usual. Crabbe and Goyle were stuffing their faces with lard cakes while Macnair fiddled with the Wireless, which spat out bits of music in between static crackling. The Bulstrode sisters, Violet and Juniper, were giggling over the latest issue of Witch Weekly with Portia Rowle, who was paying no attention whatsoever to the article in front of her and instead made googly eyes at Goyle.

Narcissa glanced at them and went straight across the room to her favourite spot, a large desk under a porthole window that allowed an underwater view. She set up ink and parchment like she couldn't wait to get started on homework, and Lucius decided to leave her alone until she came crawling of her own accord.

"Crabbe, move," he said, tapping the back of Crabbe's armchair with his wand so the legs lifted off the floor and Crabbe was spilled on to the carpet. Crabbe went, grumbling, to sit on the floor right in front of the platter of cakes and stuffed almost an entire pastry into his mouth.

"Hnngh-ssa?" he made.

"What's that?" Lucius asked disinterestedly, now occupying the comfortable chair by the fire. He stretched out his long legs and immersed himself in the Quidditch pages of the Daily Prophet, hoping to keep the conversation with his classmates to a minimum.

No such luck. "What's wrong with Narcissa?" Crabbe repeated after regurgitating the cake several times. "She looks cross."

The problem with Narcissa was that she drew the eye of every person in any given room whether she welcomed the attention at that moment or not. A man could probably get away with murder as long as she was standing next to him and smiling. Lucius glanced over the edge of the newspaper at her rigid back which, indeed, somehow looked cross. "I couldn't tell you."

"You couldn't or you don't want to?" That was Portia, too shrewd for her own good sometimes. Goyle should consider himself lucky; the girl wasn't exactly easy on the eyes, but if she had her way with Goyle, she'd elevate their offspring's level of intelligence from village idiot at least to halfwit.

"I couldn't begin to guess what, if anything, goes on in a girl's mind," Lucius said as sarcastically as he could, and Portia thankfully took the hint. She flounced off, Goyle scrambling to his feet to follow moments later. Crabbe looked happy to be left alone with the remaining pastries.

"Ahh, this is the good life. Lard cake, Malfoy?"

Lucius raised the newspaper before he could get sick at the display of gluttony in front of him. He began to read match reports and after that the business pages, making mental notes of the price of gold (falling; it might be time to diversify) and the Muggle stock market as pertained to his father's 'secret' portfolio. Abraxas was keeping a keen eye on the goings-on at the family vault, but he had grudgingly shifted some of the responsibilities of overseeing their investments to Lucius, and Lucius wasn't about to give the old man a reason to revoke them. More power over the family finances came at the price of extra Arithmantic work however, which seriously cut into the spare time he could otherwise spend pursuing very stubborn and extremely pretty witches.

He glanced up when he heard fabric rustling close to him and someone perched on the armrest of his chair. For a second he thought Narcissa might have come to pick up where they'd left off earlier, but of course she wouldn't make such a show of closeness, and the girl didn't smell flowery either, but slightly sweaty and bitter.

He made a face as Violet Bulstrode leaned in, half crawling into his lap to smooth back a strand of his hair. Lucius ducked out from under her hand, annoyed.

"Why do you insist on that awful hairstyle, Lucius?" she purred in what she probably considered a seductive manner. "Long hair is for old men who have given up on grooming, I hate it."

"That's the whole point," Lucius said, but he knew it was futile; the girl was completely daft. In truth, he had grown out his hair over the last winter holiday so as to annoy his father, but Lucius was becoming attached to the look. It made him stand out among his peers, and if it kept Violet Bulstrode away, all the better, even if his fringe was perpetually in his face.

Her pout gave her the appearance of a blowfish. "Aw, you're such a bad boy. Be nice. I could give you a trim, you know."

The look in her eyes promised all sorts of other things she would give him if he but asked. After the excitement of what had just transpired between him and Narcissa, Lucius really wasn't in the mood. He climbed to his feet, shoving Violet off the armrest as he went. She stumbled ungracefully and almost landed on her arse. "Don't you have places to be? Letters to write to your boyfriend?"

Violet wouldn't shut up about her supposed boyfriend, an elusive person who went by the name of Robin Parkinson and allegedly worked at the Ministry in some secretarial capacity. Lucius had never heard of him otherwise and doubted that the man was worth knowing even if he existed. For all he cared, Violet could go marry a Grindylow.

"Oh, Robin is very understanding. He wouldn't mind me spending time with a good friend." She made to touch him again, forcing him to dodge her a second time. Lucius was really becoming annoyed, but Professor Slughorn had said many words about hexing one's classmates after a recent incident where limbs had gone missing, and Lucius didn't fancy another lecture.

"Friend?" he sneered at Violet. "I didn't know you had friends. Do I know him?"

He left her to chew on that, swaggering over to the alcove where Narcissa sat over her Transfiguration essay. She'd commandeered the best table all for herself and now stared out the porthole into the green depths of the lake. Without asking, Lucius slid into the seat next to her and nudged her none too gently.

"Can we be done pretending that you're upset? I can't spend the time until dinner in the company of those fools."

Narcissa looked over at him and absentmindedly flicked her wand. He felt his hair being smoothed back into a short ponytail, one strand wrapping around itself to secure everything in place. "You really should learn that charm, I've shown you a thousand times."

"Grooming charms are for girls," he said scornfully even as he admired his reflection in the window.

"No, they're for people who decide to wear long hair. You can vex your father without looking disheveled." She raised her eyebrows. "I'm sure Violet would love to help you."

"The pox on Bulstrode, if she pets me again she will lose a hand."

That brought forth a tiny smile. "Amusing as that would be, I think we have better things to do."

"Such as?" he leered, unable to resist.

"Well, I'm going to start on those fifteen inches of Transfiguration, so kindly shut up."

"You haven't started? What have you been daydreaming about up until now?" he asked with interest.

"I've been gathering my thoughts," she informed him loftily, but not without colour creeping into her pale cheeks.

"About what?" he smirked.

She drew breath for a retort, but before she could speak, they were interrupted by a fearful looking first-year, who came up to Narcissa bearing a sealed letter like it was a sacrificial offering. "Miss B-black, there's b-been a letter f-for you."

"Thank you, Reginald," Narcissa said, mustering half a smile for the boy.

He scampered off with a wary look at Lucius. "The future of Slytherin House. How depressing," Lucius remarked.

Narcissa used her wand to slice open the envelope. "And yet, those first-years are our own, so stop putting the fear of god into them and pick on someone your own size."

"You're the only one who is my own size, and you just told me to shut up," he complained. "So what am I to do but-"

"Shh," she made suddenly. Lucius looked back at her and found her quickly scanning the letter which, upon closer inspection, bore the Black seal.

"News from home?" he asked with mild interest. "Did Bellatrix finally kill someone?"

"No," Narcissa whispered, and he could see that all colour had drained from her face. She crumpled the letter up in her fist, clutching it in a white-knuckled grip. "It's… I have to go." She jumped up, her chair toppling over and crashing on the floor. All eyes turned to them. Narcissa looked around at her classmates, stricken, and hurried off. On her way out, she passed by Rosier, who'd just come inside wearing a look of alarm. He tried to intercept her, but she slipped away.

Puzzled, Lucius looked at Rosier. "What just happened?"

"Nothing, what are you talking about." Rosier idled in the common room for half a minute, picking up and putting down things in a poor show of nonchalance before he joined Lucius in the alcove and cast a muffling charm.

"Did somebody die?" Lucius asked.

"I wish. Keep this quiet, will you, the others will find out soon enough. Cousin Andromeda has run off with that Muggle she always carried on with, Ted Tonks."

Lucius snorted. Surely, this must be the opening of a very bad joke. "Come now, not even she could be so stupid."

But Rosier shook his head. "I've just had heard from my mother, she's with Aunt Druella now. Andromeda has gone off to marry him, imagine. My uncle is furious, they will never let her come back from this even if she wanted to. But apparently she's quite made up her mind, anyway."

"Seriously?" With difficulty, Lucius contained his disdain. The whole story sounded ludicrous, but Narcissa's reaction lent it credibility, and surely Rosier, though only a Black by relation and not in name, wouldn't make up such a thing. Lucius shook his head. The Blacks were volatile characters with not just a few embarrassments on their family tree, last but not least of which was Narcissa's cousin Sirius, who'd had the audacity to be sorted into Gryffindor the previous year. Lucius knew her older sisters in passing , both of them having been in Slytherin, but he'd gleaned an insight into the family dynamic from Narcissa's tales. Bellatrix was quite possibly psychotic, which was why he'd considered her the most likely candidate for a scandal, but Andromeda seemed to have a rebellious streak that put even her mad sister to shame. Even taking into account the Blacks' penchant for drama, running off to marry a Muggle was shocking. Surely her parents would disown her now, and that would be news worthy of tomorrow's Daily Prophet.

"How could Andra do this to the family?" Rosier lamented. "If I ever see her again, I'll kill her!"

"And rob Bellatrix of the satisfaction?" Lucius said dryly. "Your cousins can handle themselves. Better to stand back and watch."

Narcissa was the sensible one of the bunch, so Lucius hardly expected her to do anything drastic, but as events showed, the only thing that could be said with certainty about a Black was that they were unpredictable. Running away was unlike Narcissa, especially from gossip, although up until now gossip had hardly ever involved her directly. Once the news spread to the general population of Slytherin House, there would be a storm to weather, and Lucius actually looked forward to her captaining her ship through this. The rest of term would certainly be more interesting for it.

Rosier didn't quite seem to see it the same way yet. "Cissy must be devastated, they were always so close."

Lucius had personally experienced little in the way of familial affection, and obviously it meant nothing to Andromeda Black-to-be-Tonks, so he didn't quite see why Narcissa should cry over a sister who showed so little regard for her. Surely, she wouldn't let this upset her in the long term after the initial shock had worn off. She was far too reasonable for that.

"We should give her some space, I suppose," said Rosier, who clearly didn't fancy comforting an emotional female any more than Lucius did. "She will have to show her face soon enough, poor thing."

Lucius agreed. Still, as the evening wore on and Narcissa didn't appear at dinner, nor afterwards in the common room, he started to wonder where she'd gone off to and whether it wasn't ill advised to let a girl stew in her feelings. By nightfall, whispering had picked up all over the school, the story of Andromeda Black's misfortunes having travelled fast as gossip always did. Outside it was dark and dreary, and the air smelled of rain. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Coming up from the dungeons, Lucius overheard the Gryffindor Quidditch team complaining about inclement weather as they stowed away their equipment, dripping wet. He'd casually checked the most popular hideouts on his way to and from dinner, but Narcissa was nowhere to be found. Alerting Professor Slughorn was out of the question, it would only stir up a fuss. The only option was to go looking for her himself, and he was still debating whether or not to get mixed up in things that didn't really concern him when he heard one of the Gryffindors say,

"Who'd want to go for a swim on a night like this? Bloody snake, probably getting in touch with her cousin, the loch monster. They're crazy, the lot of them."

Lucius stopped by the doors that led into the courtyard. The rain was coming down in sheets now, splashing off slick stone. He didn't fancy getting wet. Besides, Rosier should do the honours if it really was his cousin trudging about by the lake like a tragic heroine, but Rosier was in the common room, busy downplaying any relationship with the Blacks, which would likely take a while.

The lake it was then. Huffing, Lucius pulled up his hood against the rain and set off, curiosity driving him outside more than actual concern. Narcissa would never be so stupid as to risk her life over a bit of drama, but whatever she was up to, he wanted to see.


	2. Chapter 2

Narcissa didn't know how long she'd wandered aimlessly along the lake's shore, but by the time she surfaced from the depths of her despair enough to notice that it was dark, she was frozen through and soaked from the rain, not just her tears. She'd cried herself out; now only dry, heaving sobs would come, and she felt like she might be sick thinking of her sister, of what she'd done.

Narcissa slumped down hard on a large rock and looked out over the water stretching endlessly into the night. Darkness settled over her like a heavy cloak. Andromeda was lost to her, and Narcissa didn't know how she could ever feel whole again.

The water lapped at her feet, pulled at the hem of her cloak. She was cold, so cold that the sensation had reversed itself to a slow burn that was creeping up through her arms and legs towards her heart. Her fingers and toes were numb already. Narcissa welcomed the feeling. If she could be numb all over, become as hard and cold as ice, maybe she would stop hurting; maybe then she could be indifferent like Andromeda was, uncaring about her sister and blissfully alone.

It wasn't even that Andromeda fancied herself in love with a Muggle that disturbed Narcissa; that was a whim, a lapse of judgment that could be forgiven if Andromeda would only repent. That she didn't, no, that she'd act on a passing fancy in spite of all that she stood to lose was a monstrous betrayal. No man could love her any better than her own sister did, and especially not a Muggle. What did he know of Andromeda, of her world? Andra belonged with her family, and Narcissa didn't understand how her sister could deny that, could hurt her when Narcissa loved her so dearly.

She thought of their parents and Bellatrix, whom she'd have to face before long over the spring holiday. Their mother would be beside herself until her trusty poppy seeds took the edge off her suffering. If Narcissa was lucky, mother wouldn't leave her bedroom for weeks. Her father would lock himself in his study, not to be disturbed, leaving his daughters to weather the storm of outrage. But it was Bellatrix she worried most about, her other…only sister, who would prowl the halls like a caged panther, roaring her fury. That was the home Narcissa was to go back to when summoned, and permanently after school ended. She could hardly stand the thought. If Andromeda had wanted out, fine, but how could she forget her little sister? How could she leave Narcissa behind?

Shivering, Narcissa stood, her feet sinking into the soft, wet ground. She was alone. She would always be alone from here on out. She staggered with the thought, into the water that felt almost warm on her frozen skin now. "As above, so below," she whispered, feeling the current pull at her. The world as she knew it was shaken to its core, and Narcissa felt the tremor in every fibre of her being. It hurt so much; she only wanted it to stop. Her robes were heavy, swirling in the water. It would be so easy to let go, be sucked underneath the surface and burn up, burn out, without anyone ever knowing.

It would be so easy…

"Oh, honestly. If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" a voice suddenly said behind her. "Or, if a Black drowns herself and no one is watching, will she even die?"

Narcissa shuddered with the cold and sudden trepidation. The water gurgled around her legs, the soft, muddy ground opening up to envelop her feet and pull her in, deeper, deeper. A few moments more and she wouldn't be able to get out, not without magic, and her fingers were frozen stiff around her wand. Let go or pull back; she had to make her choice, she couldn't wait until it was too late and depend on him to pull her out. But she couldn't kill herself now either, not in front of him. It was just too pathetic, and besides, it would seem like admitting defeat. It _was_ defeat, but she didn't mind so much as long as no one saw her.

But now he was here, and when she turned her head, she found him watching her with eyes as pale and frosty as the ice around her, and she felt her body grow hot in spite of the cold water. She didn't want him to be the one who'd fish her corpse from the lake. Who knew what she'd end up looking like.

"I'm not going to rescue you, so if you do this, be sure you really want to die," he drawled in as bored a voice as if they were discussing homework.

"I don't." She snapped her teeth shut tightly to keep them from chattering, unsure whether it was true or not. "Of course not."

He didn't ask why she was in the lake then. Narcissa supposed that was him being merciful, and she clenched her jaw to keep from screaming or, worse, crying again.

"Good," Lucius said, "Because that would be stupid. And you're not, usually."

"Why, thank you," she forced out, but she was shaking too much now to even talk. She raised her wand, dreamlike heavy, and cast a shimmering, translucent strand of magic to anchor herself at the shore, pull herself out. She could barely move her legs. Her shoes squelched unpleasantly as she staggered on to firm ground at last, muddy and frozen through. Her clothes were ruined. Everything was ruined.

Lucius looked her over with a raised eyebrow, but made no comment as to her appearance. "Well, if you're not going to kill yourself, I suggest you come inside."

"Why?" She wrapped her arms around herself against the cold and the onslaught of his smirk. She couldn't deal with his mockery, not today, or maybe not ever again. How could there be jokes or laughter or playful banter when everything in her was shattered and cold?

"Aside from the fact that it's bloody freezing?" He rolled his eyes. "People are talking."

She didn't need to ask about what. Her stomach lurched with a sick feeling of grief and revulsion. She glanced at Lucius, who stood, hands buried in his pockets, returning her look with an unreadable expression on his face. He knew, she thought, wondering why he had still come. To hear first hand, perhaps, what shame had befallen the Blacks.

"They will talk whether I'm there or not." There was nothing she could do about that, nothing she could do to restore her family's good name. She had never felt so helpless.

"Most of them wouldn't dare say anything to your face. You have to make an appearance. Don't give them the satisfaction of hiding in shame."

She shook her head wildly. "I can't go back, Violet will be waiting with her knives sharpened-"

"You're not scared of her, surely," he snorted.

"Well, tonight I am!" Her hands trembling, she cast a charm to dry and clean herself, then a spell for warmth, but she couldn't stop shaking.

Lucius stepped forward and firmly grasped her upper arms, locking her in his hold and a look that wasn't exactly kind, but not unfriendly either. His hands were warm and there was something reassuring in the firm grip he had on her arms, like Narcissa could come apart and he would still hold her up with no effort required of her. She looked back at him tiredly, wondering why he bothered, and how long it would be until he grew bored of supporting her.

"Why are you here when you could be in there with the others, laughing at me?"

"I'm planning to exploit your moment of vulnerability, obviously." He shook her lightly. "Can we go inside? You've had enough fresh air for today, I think."

Narcissa sighed. "I want to be alone."

"Do you _really_?"

She could feel herself crumbling bit by bit, and she didn't want company if she had to keep her guard up. More tears were choking her up, and she'd rather let them fall in solitude, but Malfoy didn't seem to be out to tease her for once.

"That blood traitor is not worth it, you know," he said when the first tear spilled over.

Shocked, she looked up to meet his eyes. "Don't… We must not speak of her."

"Yes, we must, if you're going to do stupid things because of her." He looked her over once and shook his head. "I never thought I'd see the day when you let yourself go like this."

She blushed hotly. So she _was_ completely disheveled, but _he_ was being insufferably rude. "Ever so charming, Malfoy."

"If coddling is what you want, I'm not the right person to talk to," he replied curtly.

"I didn't ask you to come down here." She shook off his hands and took some steps up along the winding path to the castle if only to put some distance between them. Rain was coming down heavily, soaking the land through until it seemed they would all drown in mud. Narcissa gasped in the damp air that curled the ends of her hair and made her school uniform cling to her skin. She smoothed her hands over the stained fabric and tried to will away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks to make her humiliation complete.

"Don't you think you're being overdramatic?" came Lucius's voice from behind her.

"Am I?" Narcissa couldn't stop the tears any more than she could stop the rain from falling. Lightning struck overhead, closely followed by the rumble of thunder.

"Yes." She could tell he was closing in on her, could sense his presence at her back. "Why do you wallow in misery that is not your own?"

"It _is_ my own. She is...was my sister." Kind-hearted Andromeda would've pitied her now, would've consoled her when Narcissa came crying like a child, but then again, if not for Andromeda, there would've been no reason to cry.

"What she's doing is madness, but she made her choice. Don't cry for her."

He would not understand grieving for a childhood lost, for a siblings' bond he had never known. Andromeda should've known this grief, but she was happy, _she_ was with the man she loved, and Narcissa had no more tears to shed for her.

Their family would be dragged through the mud. Their parents would be heartbroken. And neither of the two remaining Black sisters would be fit for polite society now; in her selfishness, Andromeda had seen to that. Bellatrix probably didn't care. Narcissa did.

Lucius was her friend, and she believed that his regard for her was genuine, or it had been anyway, but she did not trust that it would overrule his sensible judgment any time soon. He was showing her a kindness that was unlike him today, but to what purpose he was acting, Narcissa didn't know. Still, there had to be a purpose, and she felt ill prepared for it, raw with her grief and vulnerable with the need to keep his respect. If her family's name didn't command it, all she had to recommend her was her beauty and her talents, and she didn't quite know if that would be enough for anyone, and especially for him who had so little time for those he saw as beneath him.

"Dear merciful gods, witch, would you stop blubbering!"

He hated outbursts of emotion; she'd make him angry, spoiling any attempt they might have made at reasonable conversation, but she couldn't help herself. He was her only friend outside of the sycophants who would now turn their backs on her, the only one who'd never had anything to gain by associating with her, and she felt it keenly now that she was about to lose him. She could not trust her own flesh and blood not to betray her, so how could she trust him? "Don't mock me! I assure you I feel quite awful enough already."

"Clearly." He'd caught up with her; his lip curled with distaste as he took in her blotchy face, the tremble of her chin. With a sharp jerk of his wrist, he produced a pristine handkerchief from seemingly out of nowhere and pressed it into her hand. Narcissa absently wondered at the perfect handkerchief when his charmwork was usually so sloppy, but apparently, Lucius knew how to put care into things if he wanted to. "There. Now calm down, self-pity is extremely unattractive."

"What do I care?" she sniffled, hiding her face in the fine white cloth. It smelled of boy, of him: expensive soap, broom wax, the faint sulfuric residue of curses, and something that she didn't know how to define, but could have picked out of a hundred scents.

"The others are sitting downstairs proclaiming the downfall of the Black family. I didn't believe you'd give them the satisfaction of being proven right, but perhaps I was wrong." He tugged a little too hard at a stray curl that fell in her face. "Show them! It's a cold day in hell when you don't care how you look, Cissy."

She raised her head defiantly, but then she saw that he was smiling. Taken aback, she shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling exposed without the armor of her flawless beauty. "What am I supposed to do? Everything is ruined. No one will want to be friends with me anymore, I can't even look at them-"

"You're being silly." For a few moments he stared at her, the smile vanishing as quickly as it had come. "I'm not 'no one', am I."

"No, but you're too smart for this," she forced out, peering at him over the edge of his handkerchief. "Associating with me is not smart now."

"It never was smart to begin with. Except for the benefit of your Potions expertise, I suppose." He was so close that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. He tipped her chin up and rubbed at the pink spot on one cheek with his thumb. Her skin burned under his touch. "One of your foolish sisters always was going to do something completely crazy, and if they didn't, it would've been one of your cousins."

"So why are you here?" she asked tiredly.

"I haven't been brought up to deny myself." He was smiling that mercurial smile again, and Narcissa shivered, never knowing what he'd do next, never certain whether she liked that or not.

In spite of herself, she had to smile back. "And what is it you're not denying yourself?"

This time, it was he who leaned in for the kiss, and Narcissa felt powerless to resist anymore. It seemed quite pointless to fight this when she had wanted it for so long, when it was the only thing in the world that could make her heavy heart pick up its steady beat again. This was nothing like the quick peck she had allowed herself earlier under the ruse of a curse; it was slow and deliberate, like he was making a point of not fabricating a half-hearted excuse of it later, and Narcissa rose on her tiptoes to meet the unspoken challenge, her fingers curling into his shirt.

She'd snogged quite a few boys before, but that had been almost analytical, set up with all the care with which she conducted her Potions experiments. She'd been pleased enough with the outcome most times, but once she felt she'd learned enough, she'd moved on to the next willing participant of her informal study. With Lucius, it was different. She could feel his smirk against her lips as he angled his head to deepen the kiss, outline with her tongue the shape of his mouth that was so uniquely him, and felt a shiver start at the base of her skull and race all the way down into her toes. Everything she'd experienced before had simply been a means to pass the time until this perfect moment, and it tasted all the sweeter for the bitter pill she'd had to swallow before.

Narcissa pushed the thought away. If there was nothing she could do to force the world around her to bend to her will, she could at least have this: Lucius bent to no one either, but in clinging to him, she felt less adrift in the currents that would pull her under. She was blind in the darkness that her name heralded and that was the curse of the Blacks, but he was named for the light and so he appeared to her just then. She'd almost succumbed to the madness that slumbered deep inside today, would have if not for him. Why he was so intent to save her, she did not know, but it hardly mattered. It only mattered that he was here now, his arms coming around her back to hold her to him, anchoring her to safe shore.

He made to move back, but she clutched at his shirt, unable to let go yet and face reality. It would set in as soon as she left the circle of his arms, and she knew Lucius was not one to prop up others for any length of time. Before long, she'd have to stand on her own feet again, face the secret whispers and outright jokes, but not yet, not yet. They'd have to come up for air eventually, but it was better to drown herself in this than literally, as she'd almost done earlier.

Eventually, he broke away just enough to speak, but did not let go of her. "You know, for someone who professed only today to not be interested in snogging-"

"I lied, fine, is that what you wanted to hear?" she cut in with little grace. "Just get back to it."

Chuckling, he obliged, drawing her closer so she was half inside his cloak, which fell over her like a heavy blanket and warmed her more than any heating spell could. It was still raining, but Narcissa hardly felt it. Her gaze had turned inwards; there was nothing outside of this that wasn't cold and bleak. She sneaked her arms around his neck under his hood, fingers twining into the messy ponytail that he stubbornly kept growing in spite of all customs or fashion, and felt a twinge of fondness. They'd been friends for a long time, but this intimacy was new, and it was all terribly exciting. Still, there was a familiarity to it even in these first cautious, exploratory touches. Lucius kissed exactly like she'd expected him to: confidently, without any hesitation of propriety, and with a demanding slant to his mouth that was just a little rough. She absorbed all this, fitting herself against him as his hands strayed downwards from her waist to pull her closer. He settled them low on her hips, sort of patting down the fabric of her skirt, and she leaned back just an inch so she could raise her eyebrows at him.

"What are you doing?"

That infernal smirk was back. "I'd been wondering if you made those stockings stay up by way of magic or garters."

She bit back a smile, gratified that her efforts had not been in vain. Her charmwork was impeccable, but sometimes a simple solution worked best. "And is that newfound knowledge enriching to you?"

"Very."

She could feel that he was aroused, but that sort of reaction was hardly new to her. What was more surprising was that he did not let go of her even when they were not kissing, that he was still standing here with her soaking up the rain that was pouring down from the heavens. Neither of them moved; between them, they were warm enough.

"Is this a pity snog?" she asked at length, genuinely curious.

"Yes, Narcissa, it's a pity snog. Charity is my middle name, don't you know."

Narcissa made a mental note to address every piece of writing to him to 'Lucius C. Malfoy' from now on, and had to smile. "What are you even doing, Malfoy?"

"I thought that was obvious," he muttered, leaning in again to kiss at her neck.

She had to muster some effort to keep her voice even. "Spell it out for me."

"I'm giving our classmates something more interesting to talk about than your family's misfortunes," he smirked. "Your Muggle-loving sister is far away. We're right here, and they've had a betting pool on when we're going to snog for almost two years now."

She slapped him lightly across the chest. "You're making that up."

"No. I had Goyle put in ten Galleons for me at the start of term. I'll split it with you, and our classmates will whine and moan and forget all about Andromeda. Two birds, one stone. Actually, three birds, if you're counting personal satisfaction." He moved in to kiss her again, but she leaned back.

"Is all of this just a game to you?" she asked softly.

"Do you care?" he retorted.

Narcissa considered it and found that no, she didn't particularly care just then. He was offering to be her ready accomplice in distracting their school mates from a juicy scandal, and it really would take nothing less than the two of them throwing the combined weight of their names and reputations into this little affair to get Slytherin House to look away from what happened with the Black family elsewhere. That he was also a good kisser was a bonus, and even if she was used to her boyfriends being completely enamored with her, it was good enough that he was her friend; he was worth more to her as an ally than an infatuated fool. Besides, she thought as she moved closer again and felt his hands stroking up and down her sides, it wasn't all an act, no matter what he might pretend. He wanted her, she could feel it, and for the time being, it was enough. Who knew what the future would bring; at that moment, Narcissa only wanted to make it to tomorrow.

"How much is in the pool?" she asked, shoving aside the fear and heartache that lingered at the edges of her awareness in favour of more practical matters.

"I'm not sure. Something like a hundred Galleons."

Their classmates really were pathetic. "Is everyone in on this?"

"Probably."

"Fine." At least she could bleed all those blithering idiots dry. "We'll split it. Halves."

A slow expression of pure devilish delight came over Lucius's face that would've been terrifying to anyone else. "Goyle will want his payout, but after that's settled, we have a bargain."

Narcissa rolled her eyes at him. "You care far too much about gold, you know."

"No, not particularly. But I can't wait to see their faces when I collect the winnings; do you know, Violet Bulstrode is going to lose all of her pocket money."

Now that was a cheerful thought. "Let's go inside," she said quickly before she could start thinking too much about it. She made to start up the muddy path towards the castle again, but Lucius caught her hand.

"You are aware we will have to put up a demonstration?" he drawled, "You know, so they'll pay up?"

"That's the whole point, isn't it? Distraction?" Now that they were plotting the next steps, she suddenly felt tired. The warming charms had worn off, and she was cold, wet and utterly exhausted. She didn't think she had the fortitude to put up a show tonight, but if she must – and they wouldn't leave her much choice – she'd rather do it together with him than run the gauntlet alone. "Let's go so I can throw myself into the snake pit."

"You say that like you've something to be afraid of," he said, giving her a nudge to start the climb up to the school. "Please. You _are_ the snake, not the mouse."

Nothing more was said until they got back to Slytherin House. People stared and whispered among themselves, but Lucius glared down his nose at them until the muttering ceased. He was still holding her hand, and that was causing as many looks as Narcissa's dirty clothes and windswept hair. Silence settled over the common room as all eyes turned to them.

Violet Bulstrode, of course, was the first one to come forward, dancing up to Narcissa positively glowing with delight. Narcissa was sure the other girl had no talents except sniffing out other people's shit, but that she excelled at. "Narcissa," she cooed, "There you are. We were beginning to fear you'd thrown yourself off the Astronomy Tower."

"I was out by the lake collecting bladderworts, but thank you for your concern." Narcissa tried hard to keep her shivering under control. Now that she was back inside, her frozen limbs were starting to burn with the shock of sudden warmth, and in spite of her cleaning charms, she felt itchy and dirty. All she wanted was a bath and some quiet, but no such luck.

Violet smiled, showing crooked teeth and malice. "Well. I hear congratulations are in order. Your sister got engaged, how…exciting!"

Narcissa braced herself and looked her housemate squarely in the eye. "What sister?" she said coldly.

"Sod off, we're busy," Lucius added, pulling Narcissa past the other girl and back towards the alcove where their Transfiguration essays were still waiting.

That took some of the wind out of Violet's sails. She trailed after them, looking back and forth between the pair with a hungry expression on her face. "Haven't you heard about her sister, Lucius? I'd think twice about associating with a Black now."

"I'm sure Narcissa will be heartbroken to lose you," he said dryly, and Narcissa had to bite back a smile.

"Completely," she supplied, affecting a ridiculous pout, and around the common room, people tittered.

Violet scowled. "She's beneath you in every way, Lucius."

He rounded on her, spinning Narcissa in a half circle that brought her up against his side. She braced herself against his chest with one hand, and he let his arm fall around her shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Only in my dreams," he drawled and, his glare fixed on Violet Bulstrode, kissed Narcissa firmly on the lips.

There was a second of charged silence before Goyle erupted, "Yes!" and the rest of the assembled students broke into nervous chatter.

Narcissa resurfaced to curious looks from them all and a hateful sneer from Violet, who turned on her heel and stalked out. Narcissa inclined her head towards her cousin Evan, who gave her a surprised shrug that seemed to say, whatever works, then fixed a pointed look on Goyle, who was effusively jubilating over, presumably, the winnings of his bet.

"That was easy," Lucius said close to her ear. He sounded smug, but she'd allow it; he was right, and he'd done her an enormous favour even if the whole thing worked out to mutual advantage. She turned to him, smoothing a strand of hair back behind his ear, and kissed him again just because she wanted to.

"It's not over," she whispered, only for him to hear. "This was only the beginning."

"Well, it's only a few months till the end of term. We can probably outsnog the gossipers."

And what then, Narcissa wondered, but she quickly clamped down on musings of the future. She would return home to a cold hearth, drawn curtains and family who were too wrapped up in their own misery to care about hers. Bellatrix answered to one master only, and Andromeda was gone. It would fall to Narcissa to play the dutiful daughter, tend to their mother and watch in helpless silence as her father gambled away her inheritance. But not today, not today. She was here now, in the House that had been more of a home to her than the one she'd been born in, and for now, she lived only for herself.

She should make the most of it.

Lucius was looking at her expectantly, waiting for a cue, and she turned her back on the curious onlookers in the common room and sat down in her customary place again as if nothing had interrupted their evening routine. "So, the essay. You know, I think I'll skip it just this once."

She composed a letter to her family instead in acknowledgement of their bad news, but with each stilted word that would placate her parents, the issue seemed further and further away. Narcissa had learned to keep her emotions well guarded around her supposed nearest and dearest, and when she immersed herself deeply enough into the role that was expected of her, she barely felt a twinge of heartache. She just wouldn't let herself dwell on it; strike it from her mind, if not her heart, and carry on until maybe one day, it wouldn't feel so terrible to even think Andromeda's name.

So she sealed the letter as well as the secret place inside her that held the feelings she did not dare pull out and examine. It was all too complicated, and it had already been a long day. She glanced sideways at Lucius, who'd actually sat down to write his essay in a rare show of compliance with the rules that never seemed to apply to him otherwise.

"Almost done?" she asked.

"Why?" He didn't look up from the scroll of parchment he was quickly filling with his barely legible handwriting, but his mouth curled at the corners. "Have you got any plans?"

"Maybe," she allowed, resting her chin in her hand as she watched him. Bone-deep fatigue was setting in, but she felt twitchy with restless energy nonetheless. She didn't know if it was a good idea to turn to Lucius for comfort beyond the distraction that their relationship provided for their classmates, but she was overwrought, and she'd rather go to bed later shivering with the aftershocks of his kisses than with cold dread. "I could do without an audience this time."

Smirking, he signed his essay with a flourish and threw down the quill. "Well. We never did finish dueling practice. Come on then, let's see who ends up on top."

Narcissa wondered if they were risking their friendship, but if she'd ever harboured romantic delusions about him, she didn't now, not after Andr—After what _she_ had done for love. Narcissa was sure that she ran no risk of breaking his heart, and she felt far too cold and dead inside to ever bring herself to care for anyone again. No; this was going to be a pleasure arrangement, and if she could feel warm in his arms for ten minutes while he was kissing her, that was good enough for the moment.

Tomorrow would have to wait.


End file.
